Ulteriorly
by Hammyzoom
Summary: In which Percy and Luke unite for the wrong reasons under the right circumstances, fighting a war all the while. To be loving enemies... A/N: Rated T for words, possibly implications of naughty things in later chapters and beyond. Chapters will increasingly grow longer. (Lukercy.)


**A/N: So, my first fanfiction. Whoo.** **It will more than likely be continued, but only if you guys want. So pleaseeee review. It's appreciated, negative or positive. So, yeah. Not sure what to put here. ****Word count before AN: 2,282. ****(Though that will probably increase later on.) Again, sorry if it's short. D: I just wanna know whether I should continue this or not before I do so. Thanks for reading!  
And, nope. Don't own the PJO series, no matter how much I'd like. Full credit to Rick Riordan.**

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For Percy, times could be better.

In fact, times could be better for everyone; every mortal and god alike. But when you were fighting against time itself, hopes like those were useless.

He was one of the few that realized just how terrible it was; how absolutely, utterly and completely horrible this war was. He realized what it could bring and how it would forever go down in history. Most importantly, Percy realized he was a key in this war. He could make it or break it; bring the Titans to their knees or watch as Western Civilization crumbled. The stress was killing him. It grew in his chest as a ball- no, it wasn't orderly enough to be a ball- it was a knot. A ferocious, tight knot that ate at him, gnawed into his very existence, until his bones were shaky and his skin pale. But Percy fought on. He kept going, didn't stop. Every monster he slayed, every traitor he brought back to the "good" side. (Good? What did that even mean anymore? Percy sure as hell didn't know.) They didn't relieve his stress, certainly not. He wasn't sure anything could do that now. They only propelled him further, pushed him deeper into a hole he wasn't sure he could ever climb from. The son of Poseidon was killing himself before he could ever kill Kronos.

All these thoughts and more flew through the young demigod's head as he walked through the crowded city street, his vacant eyes scanning for any sign of monster-life, bitterly-cold New York air brushing against his pink cheeks and swelling into his jacket, sending shivers throughout his body, goosebumps growing like grass on his pale skin. To others, the boy most likely seemed normal. A teenager, out with nothing to do. That was close to correct. Percy Jackson certainly wasn't just any teenager, but, at this point in time, he didn't know what he was doing.

As if on cue (perhaps timing that was too sharp), a warm hand was placed on his shoulder, lithe, nimble fingers trailing down to nearly graze his collarbone, followed by a familiar voice. Snarky. "Perce. Long time no see." Luke. Instantly, he recognized it, only to be affirmed further when he turned around to be met by a smirking face, tugging upon a scar.

"Luke…" The name leaped from his mouth, as those around him seemed to disappear, his body suddenly against a cold, stone wall. His heart did a few moves that he never thought it could before, his hand simultaneously reaching into his pocket, grabbing desperately for Riptide. "Wha-"

"Shh, Perce," The older cooed, face suddenly closer than it was before, the hand removed from Percy's shoulder, now groping the younger's arm. "You know, I missed you," Luke said, his tone genuine and sincere, nearly fooling Percy into thinking he really did. Luke Castellan would never miss him. Luke Castellan _hated_ Percy, and Percy hated him. Or, at least, he should hate Luke. To break the boy from his thoughts came another low purr, "Perce?"

Percy struggled, writhing this way and that, despite knowing his inability to escape the older boy. "F-fuck off, Castellan," came next, though extremely contradictory to Percy's red-cheeks, and the way that knot seemed to melt in his chest, the way it evaporated with the sight of Luke's face. Gods, Percy hated to admit it, but Luke calmed him. Reassured him- after months of no contact with the older. No- Luke had been the cause of all of this, Percy knew better. Luke had disappeared once and he can disappear again. Nothing is holding him back. Not him, not his kisses, not his body and certainly not his love.

Love. Love was a thing Percy didn't like to contemplate; the boy hated the word, an oxymoron in itself. Defied it with all he could, though he knew it would never escaped. Love was an (un)needed evil, and his whole life was an irony.

"_Perce,_" the son of Hermes whispered, as people flooded around them- Percy's mind was blank, he couldn't form words, couldn't move, he could only watch. His sea-green irises shrunk, pupils dilating into the free space as more blood rushed to his face (and somewhere less decent). "You missed me. Say it. Say 'Luke Castellan, I missed you. I _want _you." His face was smug, smirking, over gentle blue-eyes that seemed almost loving, sending the sea prince sinking back further, though the eldest confident as ever. The kind of confidence that was enjoyable, even to be respected. Percy surely didn't have that air.

"I- no." Percy shook his head, looking downward: he couldn't handle the eye-contact with Luke. It was all too much, the warm puffs of breath that snuck down his neck and relieved chilled skin, the hands groping hesitantly up his jacket, feeling lean muscle, and the audacity of Luke to do it in public, in the streets of New York City, indifferent in even a stupid way. Monsters probably smelt them from miles away, even. Perhaps the older demigod had an ambush planned. It had to be a trick.  
With a cold finality, Percy snapped, "I would be lying." He struggled from Luke's grasp, a vehement battle of pulls and thrusts he somehow won. With the newfound freedom, he began his way through the street.

"Percy!" He heard the word behind him, heard the strain in Luke's voice and he nearly broke. Nearly turned back and threw himself into the older demigod's arms. He had been lying to himself and he knew it. Luke knew it, too. Luke knew Percy better than he knew himself. Quickly, the blonde was already caught up to him, paces synchronizing in an almost hypnotizing manner, causing pedestrians to part their was instantaneously, without hesitation nor wonder. "Percy, at least talk. _Please_? How about-"

He was cut off by the son of Poseidon, stopping mid-sentence just for the chance to hear the boy. Perhaps one last time, or maybe a forerunner to a real conversation? A date? Yeah, Luke would be more than happy to call it a date. "There's nothing to talk about. Not a thing. No desires, nothing. We're enemies."

Luke allowed a smirk, stepping closer to the boy as they walked to nowhere in particular. "How about a… meeting of diplomacy? Polite banter- maybe I'll buy you some coffee- aye, I'll make 'em serve it blue, even." The corners of his mouth remained turned, tugging upon the scar he'd gotten long ago, foregone memories faded away into nothing over time. Only shadows. The smaller boy couldn't help his own humored smile, though it seemed pained- repressed, even, at the idea that someone he was meant to hate knew him so well.

"I'm sure it'll stay diplomatic," Percy edged on, airborne tension evaporating more quickly than his own wrath. "You know what, Castellan. Whatever. Your treat to me, our secret." The quote earned more than a hearty laugh from Luke, and it even seemed normal, back to before the War. Before Percy knew of chaos and disloyalty. Before he was torn away from Luke.

"I'm _great_ at keeping secrets; y'know firsthand," Luke muttered, bumping into Percy less than accidentally as the words flowed from his mouth, leaking with sarcasm though edged with goodwill and humor.

"Son of Hermes... and secrets." He looked to the older and cringed in a strained, joking way, sticking his hands in his woolen pockets and nodding his head to the side, beckoning to a coffee shop he had seen before, though never entered. Without pause, the two continued into line, embracing the warm air in a small gasp of pleasant surprise. It was then they realized how close they had actually been standing, and felt the radiation of warmth from one another. Though, they didn't move. Appeared as normal as possible, blending into the crowd as they had been taught.

After they had been given their steaming drinks, complete with little puffs of white air circling from the surface of the liquid, the boys scouted out a table. There, they seemed perfectly normal. Two teenagers, perhaps more than friends, sharing a drink, discussing as any mortal would. Percy would give the world for that, desired it more than anyone or anything. If only, though. He had enough wants right now, and a quenching thirst for knowledge. Knowledge of Luke.

"Where have you been? Why did you leave, Luke? It wasn't just me you le-"

"I left because I had to," He interrupted, his face suddenly and unreadable, not masked, but empty. Devoid of feeling and remorse. "I left to keep you safe, Percy. For you and for everyone. I can't go back now." Luke seemed serious, honest. Percy couldn't detest the boy for that, for humility in spite of his own wrongdoings.

The younger was astonished, though. Not by Luke's seemingly selfless actions, but by how he believed it helped anyone. How could _this _change anything? "No. No, no. You've only caused problems- Luke, there's a _war _because of you!" He ducked his head down, his bottom lip feverishly held between his teeth and his eyes narrowed nearly shut.

Luke looked down, face contorting the way of a vexed animal, "Percy- oh, gods, Perce. I didn't know this would happen. If I knew anything would end up like it is today, I would have never done it. I would have stayed with you and Annabeth and the rest- I didn't know it would end up like this."

"Yeah?" He looked back up, wide eyes complimenting his innocent, open-mouth pout, though contradictory to his tone. It was sarcastic and bitter, hateful and snide, "Pairing up with Kronos to destroy Olympus- 'Oh, I didn't know it was a bad idea!'. Luke, why?" By this point, the younger felt bipolar. On a roller-coaster of emotions that wouldn't stop, an adventure gone wrong as the ride continued on and on, willing only to what seemed like insanity.

"Perce, that's why I found you- an offer, that's all I want you to hear. I know it's not worth listening to, but just," Luke looked to him, blue locking onto green in a moment that would then forth be embedded in Percy's head, indistinguishable from countless other times buy still there, "please?"

"Found me. Oh, yeah, that's a great term. How long did it take you? Do you have allies in Camp, too? Watching me- _us_?" He didn't know what to say; an offering at this point would be useless. Outside this quaint, mortal shop lay places already fallen to ruins, marched upon by savages of war.

Luke let out a quiet chuckle, murmuring, "You're so cute when you're mad, y'know."

He blushed, furrowing his brows and placing his head back down over his arms, wrapped around themselves over the table. "This isn't about _me_- well, it is, but that's not the point. Just- Luke, answer me."

"I came to talk to you. We could continue meeting like this- and gods, Percy, I love seeing you and I _know_ that you love to see me," he allowed a smirk, his arm reaching outward, placing a familiar hand on the halfblood's clothed elbow, "or you could… I don't know what else you could do. I can't bear not to see you. You're the only reason I haven't given up on both sides, Perce." _Cliché, _he thought.

Percy shook his head, involuntarily rattling the table as he went. There wasn't a deeper message to what Luke was saying. He wanted to see Percy and Percy wanted to see him. Not a way around it, no subliminal messages- nothing. They desired each other, needed each other. Frankly, he was duped. Without idea or clue as to what to do. _The hero and the traitor: a lovestory written in heaven_, he thought, _or in hell._ "Luke… gods damnit, you're so fucking difficult," he muttered into his sleeve, audibly, picking his head up and reaching for the blonde's hand, bringing the nimble fingers gently to his lips.

"I know." Luke smirked, index finger gingerly stroking Percy's face. "We could elope, you know. Leave this all behind…"

"No, I couldn't do that. You have a better chance coming back to Camp before I'll do that," the boy said, shaking his head firmly and beginning to nibble at Luke's finger. His eyes were shimmering, heart-pounding. This was wrong. All of it was wrong; he had no business here, and the same could be said for Luke. They were sworn enemies… but, oh, how they craved each other.

"Maybe-" He was interrupted by a Earth-rattling cry, and shrieks of terror from outside. Riptide was immediately at Percy's side, the shimmering bronze gone unnoticed by everyone but Luke, whom was currently wielding a sword of his own. "No, Perce. Leave. Now. No questions, run." He barely paused between the words, pulling Percy into a tight hug, a kiss landing on his nose. Luke smelt so… so, good.

"But- _Luke."_

"Fucking go!" Luke yelled, his face such an odd mixture of fear and concern and sorrow it sent shivers down Percy's back, but he complied. He didn't argue, didn't ask a thing. Sprinted out the doorway, feet fast against the ground and, glancing back only once to see what he could only describe as destruction: concrete dust floating freely through the air, swirling in little masses that complimented the falling snow, and the sound of shattered glass, more shrieks filling the air.

Percy spoke to no one on his return to the camp, and went to bed without showering or eating. He heard a few knocks on his door throughout the night, but ignored them. Now, Luke was his only concern.

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